


Sniffles and Nightmares

by R_Black



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Lucien is traumatized, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27291844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/R_Black/pseuds/R_Black
Summary: The bitter cold of the North is no place for hot-blooded Tieflings, and Lucien is no exception. His little excursion to deal with Vess didn't come without the consequence of a small cold, just as his newest resurrection didn't come without its own consequences...
Relationships: Cree & Lucien (Critical Role), Lucien & The Tombtakers (Critical Role)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	Sniffles and Nightmares

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: small ptsd nightmares that bleed into a waking flashback.

“I told you it was too risky.”

“Yes, Cree.”

“You should have let one of us do the deed instead.”

“You know how I love vengeance, darling.”

“You're still fresh out of the grave, for goodness sake! And you are especially susceptible to the cold!”

“Cree, please, I appreciate the worry over me, but could you just _get off me?!_ ”

Cree the black Tabaxi, fur puffed out as far as it seemed it could go, only moved a smidgen off of her charge. Lucien groaned under her thicker frame, stuck under a pile of blankets, coats, and one big panther woman. Only his head was visible, his horns covered by horn socks. His face was pallid and pinched.

Cree herself seemed a little worse for wear, as did the rest of their party. While Lucien had been taking care of Lady Vess DeRogna in Balenpost, the party of Tombtakers had dealt with a pack of Yeti that had wandered into their camp. Cree, as the group's Cleric, had to spend her higher slots on the group as a whole. Of course, they'd also had Tyffial fly out and grab Lucien as a blizzard was building.

By the time the Tiefling was amongst them, he'd caught cold and his face, hair, and horns were covered in tiny icicles. The holes where the gaudy jewels had been in his horns were filled with snow, causing a huge drop in his temperature. Cree couldn't do much except cover him up and make sure he stayed warm until the next day. When she could cast a restoration spell, she would do so.

Lucien sniffled under her, nose magenta from constantly sneezing and wiping the excess snot out. Cree offered another kerchief without moving too much.

“Get off,” he whined.

Cree purred. “No.”

Lucien sighed grumpily. “Cree, please. I can hardly breathe with this cold stuffing me up. I don't need you to make it worse.”

“Are you saying I'm fat?”

“If it will get you off me, darling, then yes.”

Cree brought out her claws and started kneading his blankets. “I'll get back at you for that later. When you're better.”

A small smile crept up his face, crinkling the silly peacock tattoo on his cheek. “Worth a try.”

Cree hated that tattoo. She hated all of the things that had decorated Lucien's body, defiling it almost beyond recognition. Piercings could heal, at least, so his ears and…other things…had long sealed up their piercing holes. Tattoos were not so easily removed, and neither were the giant holes drilled into his damn horns. Those specific holes had caused more problems than not, as the exposed bone was closer to nerves near the marrow, and thus it made him even more sensitive to the cold. The moment they'd touched down in Eiselcross he started complaining.

“You're shredding my blankets,” Lucien noted.

Cree sheathed her claws and laid her head back onto his chest. “Sorry.”

It wasn't the most comfortable sleep that followed the silence of their shared company, but Cree didn't care. Lucien was safe in their tent, sealed away from the biting cold of the outside world, and far away from that strange group he'd once traveled with. As long as he was with her, with the Tombtakers, Lucien was safe. Nothing—not even Death Herself—could separate them again.

* * *

It was very early in the morning when Cree was suddenly awoken. Lucien was thrashing under her, his own claws finishing the shredding of the blankets she'd started hours before. He jolted upwards, launching Cree off of his chest with more strength than she thought he had.

“Lucien?” she cried. “What's wrong?”

Lucien was struggling against his blankets and coats. He had already ripped the bottom layers. His tail was loose, whipping about like a dagger in flight. One of his horns knocked against the bag next to him, causing its contents to spill out.

Lucien began to choke. His whole body heaved, as if searching for air.

Cree tried to grab his shoulders. Clearly he was hallucinating. She had to snap him out of it!

“Lucien!” she cried. “Lucien, be still! You are safe!”

He cried out, but his voice was clipped. His eyes were open now, foggy and wild, as if plagued by something Cree couldn't see.

She ripped through the rest of his blankets and hauled him up to his feet. They both had to slouch inside the tent, so Cree brought him out.

The other Tombtakers were shuffling out of their tents in confusion. Cree half-dragged Lucien out into the fresh snow. She hoped the biting cold of the wee hours would get him out of whatever mindset this was.

Lucien finally took a huge gulp of air. He grasped Cree, claws stuck to her pelt, as his sense of balance righted itself. His nose dripped with snot, but Cree didn't dare move to fix anything.

Lucien's eyes, which had been glazed over in both fever and hysteria, suddenly sharpened. His pupil-less eyes flickered to his surroundings, and he finally settled his gaze on Cree. His clawed grip loosened.

“Lucien?” she said tentatively. “Are you back?”

Lucien took deeper and deeper breaths for a minute. His answer was quiet, but steady. “I am here.”

Cree glanced around at the slowly gathering Tombtakers. They all had various looks of concern for their leader. After all, they'd seen him die and return to life years later. They didn't want him to suffer more than he already had, same as Cree.

Lucien also looked around. His eyes betrayed his exhaustion, the adrenaline draining quickly. His shoulders dropped, then immediately hunched as a freezing wind whipped through the camp.

Cree led him back into the tent. She intertwined her tail with his, trying to keep it warm.

Lucien weakly waved at the Tombtakers as he staggered away. “I'm fine, I'm fine. Had a wee nightmare, nothin' to be concerned about.”

The others slowly returned to their tents, their faces relaxed. Tyffial hesitated longer, but eventually sighed against the next cold wind and went back into his tent, feathers fluffed.

“Lucien,” Cree asked once they'd settled down inside and shut the tent flap. “Are you okay?"

The Tiefling in question burrowed back into his half-destroyed blanket nest. It was a few moments before his head reappeared. “Bad dream.”

“Do you wish to talk about it?"

A few more moments passed. Then, in the quietest voice Cree had ever heard him use, Lucien whispered, “I was underground.”

“In a cavern?”

“A grave.”

Cree shuddered involuntarily. Lucien had woken up twice in his own grave, and the first time he had come up with amnesia and developed an entirely new personality because of it.

That life was an enigma to Cree. Whether Lucien remembered being that ‘Mollymauk' or not was not something he was willing to share. He had shared her distaste for the gaudiness he flaunted when she resurrected him nearly 2 months ago, which made her feel better about this being Lucien and not that liar. But, he was yet unwilling to share any insight—if he had any—on those 2 years between deaths.

Regardless, Cree nervously asked, “Which one?”

Lucien growled, the sound muffled inside his nest. “Doesn't matter. I was underground, choking on dirt and mud and worms…” He shuddered. “I was awake. But I wasn't here. I was back in a grave, trapped and alone.”

Cree slowly padded over and embraced Lucien. “You aren't alone now. And you are never getting buried again. Not as long as I'm around to resurrect you.”

Lucien stuck his head out further. A smile ghosted his lips. “Thank you.”

After a few minutes of getting Lucien settled properly, Cree retrieved a small flask of water and gave him a little to drink.

“Now, get some rest,” she admonished. “This time, I won't lay on top of you. If you feel too cramped somewhere in the future, just tell me.”

“I'll let the others know tomorrow,” Lucien promised. “If I panic underground during a mission, they’ll need to know what's happening.”

Cree smiled. “That's good to hear.”

Lucien was back to sleep within a minute. Cree curled up next to him, a single hand pressed against his chest. She felt his even breaths beneath her padded palm. Cree wished she could restore his health now, but she still needed a few more hours' rest.

For now, she was content helping him stay warm and comfortable. And Matron help her, she was going to make sure he knew he was among old friends who would do anything to keep him safe.

**Author's Note:**

> Gods I would love some basic descriptions of the Tombtakers.
> 
> I like the idea that Cree is a very loving friend, and that the Tombtakers are very much like the M9, albeit a darker, twisted version. I wanna explore that more when we get more info on the individuals.


End file.
